


Lived Long Enough

by ellfie



Series: too weird to live || too rare to die [4]
Category: Marvel, Norse Religion & Lore
Genre: Gen, M/M, sad things involving ragnarok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 14:10:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3572537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellfie/pseuds/ellfie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenrir had always argued that this wasn’t a choice. None of it was. Ragnarok would come. He would kill Odin. Vidar would kill him. Steve and him were careful to avoid the topic, usually, because Steve was just as adamant that things could change as Fenrir was that they couldn’t. </p><p>When the time came, he wished Steve had been right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ...To Become A Villain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Moonie_Fox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonie_Fox/gifts).



> Based on a prompt where your character either lives long enough "to become a villain" or "have a change of heart." In Fenrir's case, it involves how actively he involves himself in Ragnarok. Unfortunately, Raganrok is inevitable.

Fenrir had always argued that this wasn’t a choice. None of it was. Ragnarok would come. He would kill Odin. Vidar would kill him. Steve and him were careful to avoid the topic, usually, because Steve was just as adamant that things  _could_ change as Fenrir was that they _couldn’t._  

When the time came, he wished Steve had been right.

.x.

It started as a prickling; goosebumps that would never quite go away, hair standing on end, anticipation coiling in his gut. Fenrir kept it to himself, even if he was sure Steve noticed. The Wolf ( _because that’s what he was, that’s what he’d always been and would forever be)_ ignored it. Kept on with his life, with Steve. Days of goosebumps and a fluttering at his core turned into days of nausea and cold sweats; turned into aches that nothing could soothe, turned into headaches which turned into full blown migraines.

“ _I love you_ ,” he would babble as he sobbed, clutching at Steve, wanting to tear himself apart with the effort it took to remain. “I love you I love you IloveyouIloveyouIdon’twanttogo—” 

.x.

He made love with his husband over and over. That evening they started and just kept going until it was well past midnight, until they lost their voices, their limbs turned to jelly. Steve had asked, demanded, and begged to help. 

Fenrir left while Steve slept, unable to delay it any more, and before Steve could find someway to sacrifice himself for this. He left his phone on the bedside table, a note underneath it reading:  _This isn’t your fault. I love you. Thank you for making me want to ~~survive~~ live. _ _  
_

He considered leaving his ring, too, but couldn’t bring himself to take it off.

.x.

Blood coated his maw. Fire had singed his fur, a few slashes bled from his sides and his eye. Ragnarok raged on; flames eating up Asgard, all the great waters churning, Yggdrasil herself shaking. Day and Night collided, their gods already eaten, casting the worlds in a strange red glow.

Fenrir limped from his battlefield, weary and lost and knowing that somewhere his brother was dying from their uncle’s blows, that his father would fight Heimdallr to their deaths, that his sons most likely already lay dead somewhere.

His revenge left him cold, Odin’s blood heavy on his tongue. 

The great wolf fell to the ground and awaited Vidar, wishing for death.


	2. To Have a Change of Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, having a change of heart doesn't always solve the situation.

Ragnarok was something rarely spoken about between them. It was always the same argument: Fenrir saying he had no choice in the matter, that the course was set already and couldn't be altered, and Steve arguing that he  _always_ had a choice. They never agreed, and sometimes the arguments were quick and then forcefully shaken off, and other times it turned into yelling matches.

So, overall, they avoided the topic. Fenrir had always said that Ragnarok could come whenever, that he thought he'd  _feel_ it,  _know_ it, like animals know when to leave before disaster strikes. Except  _he_ would be the disaster, and walking right into the bigger fire.  _But_ , he'd try and reassure his lover and, later, his husband,  _we have time. It hasn't happened yet._

Eventually, though, the call came. Natural disasters on Midgard happened more often, a result of Yggdrasil preparing herself for the war of the gods. Fenrir thought Midgard could say out of it, for the most part, that while the world of the gods would topple, the humans had enough spunk to hold tight to their own turf. He started worrying, though, as things got worse. The Avengers -- a huge group, now, with all sorts of subsets and extensions and contacts across generations, nations and worlds -- prepared themselves, worked to hold together the shaking planet, the waters churning thanks to Fenrir's brother finally awakening.

"I won't walk away," Steve said one evening, staring down at the dark city through the wide windows of Avenger's Tower, hands clasped behind his back, feet firmly planted at shoulder's width. Fenrir frowned, moving a few steps from the table towards him. Steve, Captain America -- leader and commander and protector -- angled his head to glanced at him from over his shoulder, though his eyes kept flashing down with obvious pain.

"If you join your father," the soldier clarified. "I will defend this world."

Fenrir sucked in a breath, trying to take it slow, and didn't move closer. His gaze fell to the floor. "I wouldn't expect otherwise." He could hope, but not expect. It was all a less pointed way of his husband telling him that he would fight him to the death, if given no other choice.

Even if it wasn't surprising, it hurt. Started at another hole in his heart that grew and festered as each day passed, as tension grew. Love didn't lessen, but it was only natural for a rift to grow when they both expected Fenrir to leave for a different side of the battle at any moment. Fenrir's anger flared more and more, his long-held revenge close enough to taste, but leaving him feeling sick with the weight of what he would lose if he finally settled a millennium long grudge.

.x.

It didn't come suddenly. No revelation, no sudden decision, no way to pin-point the moment Fenrir decided against the Norns, against his destiny. He just... never left. Even as his father did, even as Jormungandr rose from the oceans, even as Thor solemnly went off to his last battle. Fenrir stayed at Steve's side.

The soldier kept watching him, sending him confused, side-long glances in the middle of meetings and battles. At home, he almost always remained within arm's reach, tried for near constant contact, as if waiting for Fenrir to disappear. But he didn't, and Fenrir never spoke about it, and would shrug off his husband's questioning looks.

At night and in the early mornings, he would trace the lines of the wolf tattooed over Steve's heart, and knew this was the right choice.

.x.

Odin still died.

As did Thor, Loki. Jormungandr. Hati and Skoll. Tyr too. Everyone from his childhood he cared about, and most of those who he didn't, too. He hadn't heard word from Hel, nor anything of Vidar -- Odin's son who was supposed to kill Fenrir to avenge his father. Funny how vengeance worked. Fenrir remembered once, when he was hysteric, laughing and yelling and crying how Steve and Stark and Van Dyne should all track down Vidar and make him an Avenger, because what  _better_ candidate was there? Avenging was literally in his lore!

Steve had to literally drag Fenrir back home, that day. Pushed him into the shower and scrubbed him down until Fenrir could breathe again.

.x.

He didn't know how many years passed. Neither he nor Steve aged as others did, and Fenrir thought that even if his husband did, he still probably wouldn't notice until all those jokes of  _you old man, did you pull out your back_ became true.

Fenrir would like to say that he spiraled slowly. A steady decline, not a sudden drop that everyone would notice. Hell,  _he_ didn't even notice for a while, because Fenrir knew he was always shit. His baggage was miles long, the affects of it always there, always ready to rise up again and drag him down into nightmares, to make him snap and snarl at the one man he had left, and the one person he could remember loving so thoroughly.

He'd like to say that all the times Steve drew his arms around him, kissed his forehead, cheek, and then his lips and said  _I'm proud of you_ , that it would make Fenrir feel good. Swell with pride, or offer the warmth of a thing well done.

It just made him feel hollow.

.x.

Odin still died.

And Fenrir wasn't the one who did it.

.x.

"He'll come for me." Fenrir's hands clasped in front of him, white-knuckled. "I swear to whatever gods are left, Vidar'll come. If not him, maybe Baldr. Baldr should still be alive. Baldr will kill me. And I'll die this time, Stevie, I will. There's nothing that I'm expected to do anymore, nothing will bring me back this time--"

.x.

His throat ached. He licked his lips. He'd drink everything he could find, and was still never satisfied.

Odin still died.

And Fenrir had never gotten to taste his blood.

.x.

When Steve wasn't around, Fenrir made lists.  _Hel, Jormungandr, Lenya, Hati, Skoll, Mom, Dad_ and another one  _Odin, Tyr, Thor, Baldr, Loki_ and another  _Hati, Skoll, Jor, Lenya, Mom, Dad,_ _  
_

_Fenrir._

From back when he was a kid, to Ragnarok and after.

Losses, all of them.

.x.

His anger built and boiled every day, and he hated himself for it. Hated how he lashed out at everyone, at Steve the most. But he couldn't stop. Like when tears build up until you can't stop crying.

Steve kept trying to get him to talk to someone, to find help if Steve himself didn't seem to be helping him. Eventually, Fenrir caved, but only because Wilson had come over with beer and a sympathetic angle of lips that wasn't quite a smile. The man was old now, but not without his mind and, just like the anger, the tears fell out too, guilt tearing through his throat.

"I'm doing nothing but hurting him," he tried, biting his lip, his cheek, his knuckles. "I wasn't meant to love. It was only ever a side affect I was  _allowed_. And then I gave up everything for it and--and--"

"It's not enough," Fenrir sobbed into his fist, trying to choke himself, and Wilson's lips didn't even pretend to smile now. "I love him, more than anything, more than everything, but it's not  _enough_."

.x.

Steve was out of the country on some big mission, and Fenrir finally gave up.

He left his phone. And keys. And bike. And everything but the clothes on his back. He couldn't leave the ring.

Steve wouldn't be back for at least a week. It gave Fenrir more than enough time.

He left the city. Took to the country and the mountains, traveling in the form he had denied too long as often as he dared. He didn't eat. Only drank enough to keep moving. Walked and walked until he found something he didn't know was what he was looking for until he stumbled upon it.

Some kind of base, out in the middle of no where. He padded up to it with little hesitation, walked right over the fence and wandered around and waited until they got their act together and defended their little plot of government controlled land. Bullets flew, electric shocks fizzled, and even a few missiles went his way. It wasn't enough. He still breathed, still staggered around, still growled mean and wide to prompt them into  _finishing_ it.

Clouds piled and darkened. The air sizzled. And then Vidar was there, standing stony-faced between two tanks, coated in Asgardian armor, wielding his father's spear. 

Fenrir snarled, exposed his teeth. Vidar said something, but Fenrir didn't care, didn't care  _at all_ , just lunged and waited for the feel of hands on his maw, pushing and pulling and wrenching, pain shooting through Fenrir's body until--

.x.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come see our goobers on [ tumblr.]()


End file.
